


Takes one to know one

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Stiles POV, post-S3, this might help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s pretty safe to save that Stiles has a pretty good handle on the supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Takes one to know one

**Author's Note:**

> Written for challenge #12 for keysmashblog’s fix-it-ficlet fest. Woo! Halfway through the challenge! 
> 
> All I knew going into this one was what I wanted at the end, kinda, and then the rest just came out at once. I definitely went over the suggested 1000 words but I guess that’s what happens when you have to get shit done more than a couple hours before deadline, LOL. 
> 
> I really like this one, though. I feel like I should have a Derek POV for it, kind of. Thoughts?

It’s pretty safe to save that Stiles has a pretty good handle on the supernatural.

He’s not going to go up against a chupacabra or a woman in white anytime soon, sure, but he knows the score. Knows when something doesn’t feel right or when something’s about to go south. 

The ‘wolves get antsy, for one. Like a cat or bird before an earthquake. They can sense something afoot. 

Lydia also starts to get a weird look in her eyes, even before she realizes it. Stiles can see it in her because, even though they’ve reached a place together where he doesn’t want to get in her pants, he watches her. He watches over her, around her, through her when need be. He watches her. 

His dad also starts getting hinky calls at the station. A lot of them turn out to be nothing, probably just random Beacon Hills stuff that’s unpreventable but harmless, but some of it could be serious, if the Sheriff wasn’t in the know now. So in that regard Stiles is pretty okay with his dad knowing his (and his friends’) big secret now.

Doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have a curfew or a license to kill (all things evil!) but it helps. 

But Stiles’ own intuition and intuition kick in, too. He knows he’s nothing special but he knows when something’s off or out of place.

Take an afternoon after lacrosse practice (finally! Track was the worst). Scott and Isaac headed off to Scott’s and Danny rode off on the back of Ethan’s motorcycle into the metaphorical sunset.

The days were getting shorter and it was dusk by the time Stiles was crossing the parking lot to his Jeep around supper time. Every other day that week things were quiet and went fine. Safe.

Not today.

Of course he had to part at the far end of the lot. Of course today was the day that he was fifteen minutes late getting out the door and one of the last ones to park and thus stuck in no-man’s land. 

Of course it was right next to the darkened woods.

He strode purposefully to his car, keeping it in his direct line of sight. Yeah, Stiles had a pretty good handle on the supernatural but that didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes entertain the idea that “if I don’t see them they can’t see me.”

Right.

The leaves rustled and the shrubbery shook and damn if there weren’t yellow eyes peering out of the darkness at Stiles.

He froze.

Werewolves he knew. He could even handle a werewolf.

Maybe.

But this wasn’t a werewolf and it certainly wasn’t something he knew. 

Beacon Hills was a beacon, after all.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself.

There was a low growl and Stiles slowly reached into his pockets for his keys with one hand and for a small vial of mountain ash with the other.

He didn’t even have time to flick the stopper off it before there was another, louder growl and a screeching from the woods.

Stiles didn’t think. He bolted for the Jeep, throwing himself inside and squealed his tires as he fled the parking lot.

He was still coherent enough to wince and remember that he didn’t exactly have money to replace the tires at the moment so maybe he should take it easy next time he had to escape from a predator hunting him.

He still had trig homework, too.

***********

So, some guy from the high school decided it would be a neat idea to try to raise some zombies.

It wasn’t.

The first couple of incidents were almost too comical to take in. A shambling, jerking, crusty person trying to walk out of the graveyard? Stiles had to ask his dad three times for the story before he believed it and even then he was skeptical.

It was almost Halloween, had to be someone pulling a joke, right?

Turns out, not so much.

Stiles did some research, passed it dutifully on to the pack and waited for further instruction. Lydia was rather out of sorts since she sensed death, in a way, and this was death coming back to life so what the fuck could she do? 

Stiles never thought.

“ _Which_ graveyard did they come from this time, Scott?” Stiles demanded on the third night of reports. 

The zombies or reanimated or recently-alive, whatever was the most PC term, were easy to take down. Whoever was working the mojo wasn’t the strongest caster so the pack was able to take them down, then seal up the graves to prevent any further late-night wandering or for the person behind it from going back to those ones.

“Stiles-”

“ _Which graveyard_ , Scott?” Stiles pinned Scott with a desperate but firm look, begging with his eyes for him not to say what he knew was coming.

“Peaceful Valley,” Scott said in a low voice, casting his gaze downward.

Stiles pushed himself up and off the couch before Scott could react and he was headed for the front door. Scott rushed after him and forced himself between Stiles and the door before he could wrench it open.

“Stiles, you can’t go.”

“Don’t do this, Scott,” Stiles warned, standing his ground.

“Let us do this, let us take care-”

“It’s my _mom_ ,” Stiles’ voice cracked at the end but his tone was firm. “Let me out.”

Scott looked like he wanted to fight but he stepped aside and let Stiles out. He gestured for Isaac to follow him for the time being while he rounded up the rest of the group. 

It would be a long night.

The graveyard was thankfully empty when Stiles arrived, barely taking the time to shut the door to the Jeep before he launched himself over the fence surrounding the site.

He could walk the way to his mother’s grave with his eyes closed but he kept all his senses attuned, as much as he could, anyway. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he stopped by her tombstone and saw it undisturbed and silent.

He thought about sinking down and sitting beside the plot, but he knew he should watch and make sure nothing was happening, even if that meant sitting there all damn night.

He didn’t have to wait long.

There was chanting, the smell of some burning herbs or incense. Stiles could just make it out, from another section of the cemetery. He made his way around the plots quick and quiet, for once happy with his familiarity with the area.

It was a random kid from Stiles’ year. He was thought of as a loner, someone who wasn’t considered a loser or who was picked on but wasn’t well-known or popular, either. He just... was. Bern or Vern or Lorne- something.

Candles surrounded the plots he was standing at and there was a book propped up on a knotted wood pedestal while BernVernLorne held up his hands and recited what he was reading.

Stiles worked his way around the tombstones until he could see the graves being targeted.

He damn near shit himself.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!” Stiles yelled, as he stood and exposed his position.

“Wh-what?” BernVernLorne turned around, startled, with his hands still in the air. He was wearing head-to-toe black with a long duster that made him look like he was trying to impersonate military personnel or a character from a sci-fi show.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Stiles burst out angrily, stomping closer to the set up. He gestured to the tombstones. “Seriously, what is this?”

“I’m going to raise the most powerful creatures Beacon Hills has ever seen!” BernVernLorne announced triumphantly, closing his hands into fists. “And no one can stop me!”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Really, pal? Well, I can tell you’ve already got one massive flaw in your plan.”

BernVernLorne dropped his arms. “What?”

“There aren’t actually any bodies in those graves.”

BernVernLorne looked down at the tombstones, displaying the names of Talia and Marcus Hale.

“But-- they’re _werewolves_!”

Stiles felt a jolt go through his body before he recovered and let out a snicker. “First of all, dude, that whole family died in a fire. The plots were pre-purchased and are here as a memorial to them, okay? No bodies. Secondly, there’s no such thing as _werewolves_. Are you crazy?”

Well, that did it. 

BernVernLorne turned on his heel and eyed Stiles with a steely gaze. “What did you just say?”

Stiles swallowed hard. “No such thing as werewolves?”

“Don’t think so. Come on, Stiles, you’re smart. A smart ass, anyway. You must have an idea of what’s going to happen now.” BernVernLorne started walking towards Stiles.

“Nope, nope. Certainly don’t. But thanks for thinking I would! You’re right, I’m a smart ass! Let’s go get some pizza and we can talk about this!” Stiles protested desperately, holding his hands up. BernVernLorne’s duster flapped comically behind him in a way that would have made Stiles snort normally but he was too concerned with being cornered and put into a headlock.

“C’mon, man! We can get over this, right?” Stiles choked out as he tried to get out of BernVernLorne’s grip.

“What’s my name?”

Stiles stopped struggling. “What?”

“My name, Stiles. _My name!_

“Shit,” Stiles whispered to himself, then guessed. “Vern?”

“It’s _Kevin!_ ”

Whoops. Not even close. 

“I’ll show you!” Kevin screamed. “I’ll show this whole damn town that I’m someone! And that there are _fucking werewolves!”_

Stiles was starting to feel a little light headed as he continued to try to pull away from Kevin’s grasp but he still managed to gasp out, “But there isn’t any such thing as we-”

Stiles was cut off on account of landing on the ground on his back with a hard thud, the wind knocked out of him. He coughed for air and rolled over, catching sight of Isaac on top of Kevin, growling at him in full shift.

“Werewolves,” Stiles gasped, rubbing at his neck. “Fucking werewolves.”

Kevin turned out to be more of a handful than expected. He fought with Isaac, giving him more of an equal match than Stiles gave him credit for. He also had the advantage of magic on his side and within minutes Isaac was lying on the ground, momentarily stunned from something Kevin said or threw into his face. Stiles crabwalked backwards toward the Hale graves and spread himself over them, as if protecting the non-existent bodies in them.

“No.” Stiles said firmly, staring up at Kevin who looked back at him with blood pouring down his face. “I won’t let you do this.”

“You can’t stop m-”

Apparently no one was allowed to finish a sentence anymore. 

A black blur came seemingly out of nowhere and knocked Kevin over, sending him sprawling behind some gravestones. Stiles scrambled to his feet and crept closer, listening to growls and tearing clothes.

When Stiles peered over the tombstones he saw Kevin’s, uh, magic “pouch” torn open with its contents scattered and ruined and Kevin himself was wearing shredded clothing now and he was lying on the ground shaking and muttering to himself.

The black blur was no where to be seen. Convenient.

“Stiles!” Scott yelled nearby. Stiles called back and waited for the rest of the group to catch up. Allison helped Isaac up and got him back on his feet.

“So, this is the guy who’s been resurrecting people,” Stiles announced unnecessarily.  
 Scott cocked his head. “Isn’t that Lorne?”

Kevin twitched.

***********

The county was finally doing something with the Hale house. 

Stiles wouldn’t have known anything about it but his father mentioned something over breakfast. A raised eyebrow over the top of the newspaper and a casual comment about how bulldozers were moving in that morning to bring the whole thing down.

Stiles nodded and continued to eat his cereal with a disinterested hum.

He had a free period right before lunch so he skipped out of school and made his way through the woods to find a vantage point to watch the demolition. He picked the side furthest away from the Nematon, eager to never see _that_ place again, and climbed a sturdy tree to watch through the branches.

He didn’t mention it to anyone else at school. Pretty much everyone had a bad memory attached with the place and Derek wasn’t even around anymore-- well, right now. But Stiles felt like someone should be there to watch. To witness it and remember. 

To not forget.

It didn’t take long, unsurprisingly. The bulldozer only took a few minutes to crush what was left of the structure to the ground and then a loader and dump truck moved in to get rid of the debris.

Stiles watched for a little while longer, taking some time to commit the moment to memory, then he jumped out of the tree and started to make his way back to the Jeep. 

He was deep in thought as he picked his way over rocks and fallen trees but that was no excuse for being caught so off guard. He dodged a tree branch that would have caught him right across the face, stumbled a bit, then looked up to see a large black wolf staring at him in the middle of the woods.

A black wolf with brilliantly blue eyes.

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. 

A pause.

A moment of breathless silence stretched out between them.

“Hi,” Stiles mumbled, raising his hand and waving jerkily. His cheeks burned and he closed his eyes for a second, swearing under his breath.

When he opened them he was alone.

***********

“Scott, Jesus Christ. I told you I’d help you with your paper tomorrow night!” Stiles called as he jogged down the stairs, knowing his friend could hear him through the front door.

He opened it without checking to see who was there, caught unaware for the second time that day.

Derek Hale.

“Well,” Stiles said. Derek raised an eyebrow.

Stiles crossed his arms in response. 

“You’ve been creeping again.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been following me?”

“Yeah.”

“You kinda saved me.”

“Kinda?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You saved me.”

“Yeah.”

“Here for long?”

Derek considered this. “Yeah.”

Stiles shifted back and forth in the doorway, feeling the chill of the night air curl around his toes in his socks and over his shoulders.

“Okay,” Stiles finally said simply, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders in a tight hug that belied his relief.

And Derek hugged him back, just as tightly.


End file.
